


a hundred miles from now

by colderwater (orphan_account)



Category: The Voice RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1664948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/colderwater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam can feel him moving in, closer still, can feel his warm breaths landing soft on his skin, and Blake's mouth presses against his neck, drawing a path, leaving light kisses behind like snowflakes, like promises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a hundred miles from now

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of the Season 6 finale. Basically stupid boys being in love with each other, and also stupid, but mostly in love with each other. Title is from 100 Miles by Blake.

Adam needs to get away.

He can't move—can't think, can't even feel anything but his heart hammering patterns against his ribcage and fire burning up his chest, threatening to consume him, to pull him underwater. The lights shine down, exposing him, and there's so much white noise, falling down around him like rain. It's everywhere and he's nowhere and he can't  _breathe_. 

It's been nearly a year now, and he's gotten himself lost in a maze he can't find his way out of. 

As much as he would like to blame it all on Blake, to pretend that it has always his fault, he can't do that.

Because Blake is Blake, and he's like six-foot-nine or whatever with ridiculous curly hair and blue eyes the colour of calm water reflecting a wide sky. The curve of his jaw is strong, roughened by the hints of stubble that show up when he's too fucking lazy to shave. Blake has stubble, is the thing, and he also has muscles and big hands and veins that run along thick forearms and he has a dick somewhere in those jeans, because he's not female, which makes him male. Which makes him a man. So Blake is Blake, and he's also a man, and he also makes Adam's chest tight with desire and his entire body thick with something he didn't think he was capable of feeling.

He's up on his feet before he even realizes it, mind spinning like a hurricane with how fast he'd stood up. He can feel the shock vibrate through the crowd, can hear the whispers bouncing off the walls, knowing that they will echo for days. 

"Hey, what the hell—"

And that's Blake's voice, rising above everyone else's, and Adam feels it like a punch to the throat, knocking the breath out of him, making his mind swim. His tone is confused, and also scared, but mostly confused, and without meaning to Adam looks over at him. 

Blake's looking right back, and he's shaking his head and mouthing something Adam's far too lost to make out. 

"What's goin' on?" Blake asks him, outloud this time, and Adam hears it echo over and over in his ears, like someone's hitting repeat again and again and again.

White noise, so bright it's blinding, setting off fireworks in the back of his brain, letting explosions go off, and he's surprised the light hasn't killed him yet, but for a while, all he can see is mist.

He just needs to get away. 

"I can't," he says somehow, to nobody but Blake, and that's it. He tears his eyes away and he runs.

"Wait, Adam—"

He can't seem to run fast enough. His feet carry him past the crowd on his right, backstage past the cameras and the bright lights and guards and past Blake's dressing room and he wrenches his door open, throwing himself onto the loveseat, velvet somehow feeling like stone against his body, cold and unforgiving.

It's easier not to think when he's by himself. It's quiet and his lungs aren't burning anymore and it's so easy now to close his eyes and pretend that none of this is real.

It's all a dream, and he just needs to wake up.

Adam won't let himself cry. He'll let himself close his eyes tight and pinch the delicate skin by his wrist so hard it bruises and he'll even let himself whisper Blake's name over and over, letting the soft syllable break and fade into the empty air, but he won't let himself cry.

 

+

 

It's been minutes or hours or possibly decades, time melting away into nothing, and Adam hears a knock at his door.

"I'm countin' to ten, Adam."

Blake is the nicest person in the world, is the thing, and it makes his heart heavy with longing. He's the only person who cares enough about him to try and find him, and that on it's own, it's—Blake's just the best. He's the kindest and the most thoughtful and just the best, and Adam wants him so badly it hurts.

_It's not worth it_ , he pleads silently.  _Please just go. I'm not worth it_.

"One," calls Blake, his voice thin and strained as it stretches through the doorway. Adam feels heavy, his body cold with longing and guilt and another emotion he's too afraid to even think about.

Blake goes on counting, and Adam says nothing, because, well. There's nothing to say. He holds his knees against his chest and presses his lips into a line and bites the inside of his cheek so hard it hurts, and tells himself again and again not to cry.

He doesn't cry.

"I'm at eight, idiot," Blake says, and the door swings open. 

He looks so beautiful, but painful. His hair is messy and he's still in that dark blue suit from earlier that makes his eyes look impossibly deep, and he looks so lost Adam can't even handle it. 

Adam tries for a smile. "You didn't even make it to ten. Someone's a bit impatient—"

Blake's eyes flash with hurt that's disguised as anger, and straight away Adam feels his chest burn with guilt, feels useless apologies rise up to his tongue. "Don't," he says sharply, and closes his eyes. And then, "Damn it, what's goin' on with you?"

Adam's vision tilts and spins, becoming blurry, and he closes his eyes tighter because he is  _not_  going to cry. His body trembles, giving him away, but he can't find the strength to steady himself. He shakes his head, meaning  _please_  and _I can't_  and  _I'm so sorry_. He just keeps shaking it. 

And, well, yeah—this hurts like crazy. It makes his entire body heavy with longing, makes him dizzy with so much want. Every inch of his body is screaming to touch, to taste, to  _love_ , and he knows he isn't allowed, but he can't help but wonder what it would be like to have those lips mapping out his body, gentle and passionate as Blake's mouth presses light bruises into the pale skin of his inner thigh. 

"Hey," Blake says, his voice soft. He reaches Adam in two strides and tightens his hands by his sides, twisting his fingers together like he doesn't know what else to do, like he's afraid to even touch him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Adam looks up at him, tries to make his eyes express what his words can't.  _Please don't make me say it_.

This time, Blake does touch him, reaching his fingers out to brush lightly against his forearm. The gesture is tentative, shy almost, but Adam still feels sparks erupt on his skin at his touch. "Adam—"

Without meaning to, he jerks away, and guilt fills his chest like water as soon as he sees Blake's eyes cloud over with hurt.

"I can't tell you," he pleads, his voice a small, useless thing. He doesn't trust it, because soon enough, it will break and betray him, he knows it will.

"And why's that?" Blake asks, his eyes brimming with confusion, and Adam wishes so desperately that he could explain, that he could make him understand. 

He can't, so he shakes his head, and it's all too much. Something inside of him crashes and out of nowhere his cheekbones are wet and his vision is blurred and his body shakes with violent sobs. He wants Blake to leave, wants him to with every single part of him, but maybe he wants him to stay a little more.

Blake lifts him up, wraps his arm protectively around his shoulders, and Adam can't do anything but curl into his chest while he rubs light patterns into the back of his neck and whispers little things he can't understand into the shell of his ear. He lets himself cry, lets the tears flow freely for the first time in what must be years, his cheek pressed up against silk, his sobs falling against Blake's chest like rain, like hailstones.

"—it's okay," Blake is saying, his fingers tangling in Adam's hair. "It's okay, sweetheart, let it out, don't be afraid."

Blake is so  _kind_ , is the thing. He's always so caring and considerate and thoughtful, and he's a million times better than anyone he's ever known. He's all gentle comforts and whispered reassurances and  _sweetheart_  in that soft Okie drawl and hard, calloused fingertips drawing patterns on his skin. He always puts his whole heart into everything he does and he's just—he's just the best person ever, Blake is.

"I'm," Adam chokes out, his lungs filling with water. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't do that," says Blake, his voice thick. "Don't you dare apologize, you hear? Don't you fuckin'  _dare_."

The air in between them is heavy and charged, electricity passing back and forth like ocean waves. Adam wants to say  _I hate you so much_  but also _please never ever leave me_ , and there's also a  _I want you so much it hurts_  hidden away somewhere. Blake's fingers are pressing insistently into the slope of his wrist, and his eyes are wide and scared and blue like the sea and Adam feels like he's sinking, like he's drowning.

"Shit," Blake says then, pushing his hands through his hair. "I told myself I was going to do it right, and now I'm sitting here yellin' at you."

"Do what right?" he asks.

Blake doesn't seem to have an answer for that. He stares at Adam for what feels like hours before he shrugs. "I don't know. Make things better, I suppose."

"Oh," says Adam, slow and cautious, testing the waters. "Okay."

"It isn't, though," Blake insists, his hands trembling by his sides. He shakes his head. "You know that, don't you? You know nothing's okay right now."

"I don't know what you're—"

"Don't," Blake interrupts, his voice sharp, and Adam's words fall into empty space.

"You're not okay, Adam," he goes on. "I'm tryin' to help you out here, but you won't even tell me what's goin' on, man." He sounds angry, his voice edging on hysterical as he continues, speaking to himself this time. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot."

"You're not—" Adam tries to say, because he's  _not_. He's Blake and he's the best person in the entire world. 

Long fingers clamp down on his mouth, effectively cutting him off. Adam can feel the warmth of Blake's skin against his mouth, can taste his heartbeat on his lips. He's just shocked for a moment, his body frozen still, but then his nerves send electric currents running through him like water and then out of nowhere he feels like he might fall over, or have a heart attack or something right there with nothing but the warmth of Blake's arms holding him up.

"Please just tell me what's going on, Adam," Blake says quietly, and when he looks down at him, his eyes are wet. "Please."

For a while, there's just breathing and two hearts swimming in dark water trying to find their way to each other. There's the soft sound of Blake's fingernails circling figure eights into Adam's back, the light hum of the heater somewhere far off into the distance, the whispers of  _it's all right_  and  _I'm here for you_  and _I promise_.

Adam looks up after what feels like a thousand years, risking a small smile. "I'm scared you'll hate me."

"What?" The laugh that escapes Blake is loud and immediate, like thunder. "Why the hell would you go off thinkin' that?"

Adam shakes his head. "You don't get it."

"Adam." Blake takes his face in those ridiculous big hands, caressing his cheek with the soft part of his thumb. "It doesn't matter what it is, you hear me? It doesn't matter what you did, or what idiotic mistakes you went and made." He laughs once, shaking his head, then lowers his voice. "It doesn't matter, all right? 'Cause I'm never going to hate you."

He shakes his head. "Wait until you hear it, man. You'll be saying something completely different."

"You sound awfully sure of yourself," Blake says. He sounds almost amused, but the layers of concern hidden underneath paint his tone dark gray, the colour of storm clouds, of everything lost in the dark, everything uncertain.

Adam wants to laugh, only nothing's really funny at all. "Believe me, I am."

"Try me, then," says Blake.

He sounds so sure of himself, so confident, like even the idea of himself feeling hatred towards Adam is the craziest thing in the world, and, well. Maybe it is.

He sucks in a breath of air, and his lungs burn like they're filling with water, with fire. He's almost sure that he's about to make a mad dash for the door that's located a tempting five feet away, but Blake is looking at him with those ocean eyes and all of a sudden it's like Adam can tell exactly what he's thinking, which is like. It's just so crazy. 

He's thinking _please trust me_ and also  _what can I do to make you believe it?_

Adam wonders what that means, wonders if it means anything at all.

_Please trust me_ , he thinks, and desperation rises inside him like a wave, threatening to knock him over, to swallow him whole.  _What can I do to make you believe it?_

He thinks that it does mean something, of course it does. It means everything.

"Okay," he whispers, more to himself than to Blake. "Okay."

Blake moves closer, takes his hands and turns them over, soft and cautious, waiting. "Do you trust me, Adam?"

"Yes, yeah, of course I do," he says, like he can't answer fast enough. "Just—please," he says, his voice breaking, fading. "If I tell you, just. Please don't hate me."

Blake's fingers tighten around his in an instant, and Adam looks down, awed at the ridiculous size difference between their hands. Blake's outstretched palm easily covers Adam's entire fist, and he kind of likes being smaller. He kind of likes having somebody bigger and stronger to protect him, kind of likes feeling protected, feeling safe.

"Of course," Blake says, almost offended. His eyes are wide and sincere. "You know I wouldn't, Adam."

"Yeah, I do know," Adam replies, and, yeah. He does. He laughs shakily. "I just...I don't even know where to start."

"It's okay," Blake says softly. "Take your time, take as long as you need, I'll wait—"

He sits quietly, tries to gather his thoughts like collecting stars and grouping them into constellations. Blake watches him silently, his gaze unassuming and patient, fingers laced together by his side, and he looks like the most beautiful thing Adam's ever seen.

"I fucked a guy last week," he says in a rush, stumbling over his words, and that's it. The second his words hit the air, it all becomes real. It becomes even more shocking and even more confusing and painfully, blindingly real.

Blake doesn't say anything for a long time, and at first Adam thinks that he's angry with him, that he must be. But then—but then, he lifts his shoulders in a slow shrug, offers a small smile, and says, "Okay."

"I don't, like. I don't know why," he continues, his voice shaking. "I couldn't stop  _thinking_ , is the thing. It was one of those times where there was just so much and I felt like I was being swallowed up by my own thoughts and I just—I needed to get away from it." He laughs, a single syllable, crisp and forced. "Kind of like tonight, if I were to put it that way."

Wordlessly, Blake laces their fingers together, strokes the back of his hand with his thumb. Adam thinks about Blake's palm pressed against his own, thinks about how it makes him feel safe.

"And he...he was just there, I  _swear_ ," he says quickly, little sparks of fear making him sound desperate. "I don't even know how he got there. It was at some club and he had his hands all over me and  _damn it_ , it's really fucking embarrassing but at the time all I could even take in was how good it felt to be taken care of. Fuck, I don't know," he says, his voice dipping into a choked sob. "I don't even remember, man. All I remember is how right it felt."

By the time he finishes speaking, his body is quivering as violently as his voice. Wordlessly, Blake holds his arms out, an offer, and Adam falls into him.

He holds on to Blake so tightly his knuckles turn white. He's like the sun, Blake is, bright and warm and beautiful, and Adam thinks that he would be okay with being a planet and drawing circles around him all his life. 

"Shhh," Blake murmurs, his cheek pressed against Adam's hair. "It's okay," he says, and he says it again. "It's okay, you're okay, you're okay."

Blake's voice gets softer as well as closer, and he's whispering in Adam's ear as he says a final, "we're okay." Adam can feel him moving in, closer still, can feel his warm breaths landing soft against his skin. Blake's mouth presses against the back of his neck, drawing a path along the pale skin, leaving light kisses behind like snowflakes, like promises. 

"What the hell are you doing," he gasps out, his breaths short and uneven. He closes his eyes, feels himself drown in the feeling of Blake's mouth, wondering if he can hear the sound of his heartbeat crashing against the inside of his chest. 

He can't see it, but Adam feels the way Blake's lips curve up slightly as he leaves a delicate kiss to his shoulder. "Tellin' you it's okay."

"Okay?" Adam repeats, like he's never heard the word before.

Blake laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the sides. He brushes his mouth against Adam's pulse point, and he can feel him smile against his skin. "Okay."

Adam thinks for a moment that if Blake was the sun and he was the moon, he would travel through all that distance, all that darkness, just to be by his side.

"You know what the worst part is?" Adam says after a while, his voice muffled by Blake's clothes.

"Hmm?" Blake moves his hand to the small of his back, his fingers curling into the fabric of his T-shirt in a way that's almost protective.

He pauses then, moves his face away from the curve of Blake's neck so that he can see his expression. And he's—he's Blake. He's open and trusting and warm, like he always is, blue eyes patient and kind, his lashes brushing his cheek just slightly when he blinks.

"I didn't even know him," Adam says, "I didn't know if he was nice, or what his favourite colour was, or even—I didn't even know his  _name_ ," he pauses, thinking, considering. "But after, I got to thinking, and I realized soon enough that the reason I felt so...so  _safe_..." His tongue stumbles over his words, and he can feel colour rising in his cheeks. "I realized I felt so safe because the entire time I was thinking of somebody else."

"Ohhhhhhhhh," Blake laughs, drawing it out, but his eyes are soft, sincere. "It all makes sense now! Thank you, Adam, I have now seen the light."

Adam shoves at his chest, but he's laughing, of course he is. "You're so dumb."

Blake smiles, a real, beautiful smile that folds creases into the skin by his eyes, that reveals his dimples. Almost instinctively, Adam pushes himself up and presses little kisses to them, eyes shining with wonder, like he can't even help it.

"Who was it, then?" Blake asks after a minute.

"You know very well who it was," Adam retorts, his cheeks flushed hot. 

"Don't think I do, actually," says Blake, grinning.

"Oh my God," Adam rolls his eyes, but under his ribcage his heart is pounding like a bass drum, and the closeness between him and Blake is enough to make his entire body light with excitement, from his head to his lungs to the very tips of his toes. "You're actually going to make me say it outloud, aren't you?"

"You betcha, sweetheart," says Blake, and Adam doesn't know if he wants to punch that smirk right off his face or kiss him until he's breathless.

"I hate you so much," Adam says. "You are the actual dumbest, most  _ridiculous_  person in the world and I hate you so much."

"Whatever you say," says Blake, and yeah. Adam definitely wants to punch him.

"I can't even deal with you," he groans, trying his hardest not to smile. And then, "It was you, you stupid, charming, country son-of-a- _bitch_."

He feels Blake's smile before he sees it, feels his lips curve against his shoulder. He brings his mouth closer, leaving soft kisses along the delicate line of skin where his jawline dips into his throat.

"Took you long enough," he says lazily, smile bright like the stars, and Adam feels like he's floating, like he's flying, drifting away.

"Heyyy," he complains lightly, his eyes shining. "You know, I was mostly convinced that you would run away screaming or something. After all, it's not like you showed me any sign of interest whatsoever."

Blake laughs at that, fingers gently guiding Adam's chin up so that he's looking up into his eyes. "Adam," he says, his voice slow and warm, like melting honey, "I've been wanting you for two and a half years."

And it's like Adam's on fire again, his body lit up with blue flames the colour of Blake's eyes. But it's a different fire this time; instead of consuming him, this one reveals him, burning all his shields down and exposing what he's been trying so hard to hide for what seems like forever.

His love for Blake melts right through, and Adam feels it with every part of him, in every part of his body, making him dizzy with how fast his heart is lifting up, up, higher, and higher still, until it's floating, until it's lost.

The only thing tying him down is the soft pressure of Blake's fingers around his wrist.

"Your—your  _face_ , Adam," Blake laughs, loud and sudden, and he looks straight at him, his eyes bright and warm. "Man, I wish you could see the look you've got on your face right now. Absolutely priceless, I'm tellin' you." He imitates Adam then, widens his eyes and drops his jaw, staring dumbfoundedly back at him.

"Hey, fuck off," Adam says, but he's smiling, his lips curved up like he can't even help it.

Blake shakes his head, still laughing. A moment later, he says, "I just don't get it."

"Don't get what?" Adam asks, turning his face to look up at Blake, and he's not laughing anymore. The air around them is different now, it's strange and electric and full of cautious, light breaths and hearts fluttering fast, wanting to escape, wanting to fly away.

"How you didn't realize," Blake says, his voice dipping low. "How you couldn't see that I've been completely gone for you for  _years_." He shakes his head once more, the gesture so small Adam could have imagined it. "How you couldn't feel it," he continues, his voice soft and private, just for Adam. "How you couldn't feel how much I fuckin' love you, that's just—it's beyond me."

He can feel it now, can feel the weight of all the love Blake has for him, can feel it and see it and taste it like a sugar cube melting under his tongue. It's like he's been stupid to doubt even for a second that Blake loved him, because there it is, bright and obvious. It must've been there all along, passing between them with every longing glance, every laugh they've shared, every spark that went off every time their hands brushed. It's subtle, electricity moving back and forth between them, a private thing for only the two of them, but it's also loud and passionate, so loud it echoes off the walls, so loud it bounces off the ceiling.

He must've been blind all this time, lost and stumbling in the darkness, because everything is so bright.

Well—of course it is. Blake is the sun, isn't he?

"I never would've—" he breaks off, shaking his head. He laughs, full of astonishment. "I guess I must look pretty dumb right now."

"Just a bit." Blake smiles. "I still think you're cute, though."

He's so close, and Adam feels himself move closer like he can't even control it, like they're a pair of magnets drifting closer and closer to each other without even realizing it. He always wants Blake closer, is the thing, wants every part of his body lined up with his own. He wants his fingers and his tongue and the space between his legs and the soft hollow that rests at the bottom of his spine. 

"Hey," Adam says, breathless. "Speaking of that, you planning on kissing me anytime soon?" 

Blake laughs, and it's the nicest sound he's ever heard. He pulls him in, whispers against his skin, spreading heat, spreading love. "Don't know about that. Might make you wait, just as a bit of payback for all the sweet time you took."

"You are the worst person in the world," Adam says, laughing loud. "The absolute worst. I've decided."

"I can live with that," Blake grins, but his eyes are warm.

"What is  _wrong_  with you, you stupid fucking tease," Adam groans. "I swear to God, you and your stupid dimples and your stupid laugh and your stupid pretty eyes, fuck you, I can't even  _stand_  you—"

Blake kisses him.

His lips are warm against his own, and he presses his hands against his back, soft and insistent, cautious. He kisses him until Adam feels numb with so much desire and so little air and so much Blake, because  _fuck_ , he's everywhere. He tries to move himself closer, because he always needs to be closer, and he tightens his fingers around the fabric of Blake's suit as if his life depends on it, as if he'd die if he were to ever let go. He feels drunk as Blake keeps kissing him, as he whispers things against his lips, small, meaningless things that hold all the meaning in the world. 

Among them, there's _it's okay_  and  _I love you_  and  _anything you want, I'll make it yours._

"I love you, too," Adam says in a rush, stumbling over the words, and he can't say it quickly enough. Blake's eyes soften as he says it, shining like water, like blue fire, like something Adam wants to get lost in, and he thinks that blue must be the most beautiful colour in the world. " _Damn it_ , I fucking love you, man."

Blake laughs against his mouth, and his entire body shakes with it as he traces his jawline with his lips. "That's good to hear."

"Yeah?" Adam whispers. "You think so, Blake?"

"Yeah," Blake nods, presses his mouth to the soft swell of Adam's bottom lip. "Yeah, I do think so." They stay like that for a while, with soft breaths and closed eyes and Blake's mouth on his, and well—that's love, Adam thinks. Where no words are spoken, but they still manage to find everything that's gotten lost in the silence.

Adam pulls back then, just enough so he's looking into Blake's eyes. Something passes between them, wonderful and private, full of promise, and Adam thinks for a second that he and Blake must be infinite.

"Prove it, then," he says, his voice low. He leans in, his lips an inch away Blake's, and stays there, just breathing him in.

Blake smiles, pulls him closer. "Prove it?"

"Yeah, jackass," Adam whispers, pressing soft kisses to Blake's forehead, to the tip of his nose, to the slight curve of his closed eyelids, to his eyelashes. "Take me home."

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing for blue suits, and Blake's hands, and italics.


End file.
